The Disappearing by Lori Roy

Author:Lori Roy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2018-07-16T16:00:00+00:00

* * *

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“DO YOU HEAR ME?” Neil says, slapping the side of his chair to get Erma’s attention. “You tell that Sheriff Ellenton. Tell Lane. I didn’t hurt that boy. Didn’t hurt none of them.”

“Yes, Neil,” Erma says.

Neil’s gray hair sticks out from his head in greasy clumps. “Fetch my gun,” he says.

Erma swings around as quickly as her sore hip will allow. As she knew he would be, Neil is pointing at the chest pushed up against the wall.

“It’s right in there. Fetch me my gun and I’ll see to who is in my house. By God, I’ll see to them boys.”

Erma stares down on the chest where she keeps her finest blankets, the ones she crocheted in hopes Lane would pass them on to her children. In the days and weeks after deputies last gathered in Erma’s foyer all those years ago, some of the ladies from the church asked, quietly and discreetly, if Lane would still be able to have children. Erma nodded, let them believe Lane had been tarnished. Neil figured Lane had it coming. If that’s what folks believed, well, so be it. Erma could never tell them Lane had been hiding, that no one had ever taken her. Now Lane has children, two beautiful girls who will one day inherit the blankets stored in the chest. It’s also where Neil keeps his gun.

Still hollering at Erma, Neil continues to push and scoot and try to make his way out of his chair, and he does it. He makes his way onto his feet. He’s not straight, he’s certainly not as tall as he once was, but he’s as upright as he can be. His tan trousers buckle at the waist because every month he must draw his belt a notch tighter, and his white shirt hangs on his empty, sunken chest.

Just as Erma wishes for it, Lane and Mark appear in the doorway again.

“Laney,” Neil says, as if surprised to see Lane. “There you are, girl. Come and see. They found the boy. The one who took you. He’s there on the television.”

“Stop that, Neil,” Erma says, shaking her head at Mark as if such things don’t often happen in her house.

“But he was right there,” Neil says, pointing at the television where a commercial for cat food now plays. “The boy who took you. Erma, get to it.” He waves at the chest again. “Fetch me my gun.”

“You want your gun?” Lane says, taking a step into the room. “You say you want your gun?”

Lane is hollering.

“You haven’t done enough?” she says. “These men, these officers, all of them are here because of you.”

“They’re here about the boy,” Neil says. “The boy who took you. He’s right there on the television.”

Lane takes a quick look at the screen. “There is no boy there. Annalee is the one who’s gone. Gone because of you,” Lane says. “Talley’s next, and you want your Goddamn gun?”

“I’ll not have anyone take the Lord’s name . . . ,” Neil says, tries to say.

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